


Tough Love

by ricewine



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 01:45:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ricewine/pseuds/ricewine
Summary: It should feel normal—it’s a question Blake’s asked him dozens—maybe hundreds—of times. But there’s something about this time, about Blake’s voice, about Blake’s eyes, even about the way Blake is leaning towards him. And Adam doesn’t know exactly what he’s agreeing to when he nods and says “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”





	Tough Love

**Author's Note:**

> so hi, i'm new to the fandom. this is just kind of a throwaway fic that was going to be something else but had its own ideas about where it was going. so i guess it's sort of a warm-up way into these characters.

Adam swallows hard as Blake’s knee brushes against his. He feels like an idiot—it’s just Blake, after all. Just regular old country Blake who likes to mock him on national television. Blake’s knee touching his shouldn’t get him going like this. Their knees have touched before. Also, he’s a grown-ass man and he probably shouldn’t get so excited by anyone’s knee grazing against his own.

Although it didn’t just graze. It’s resting there, warm and solid, and it’s all Adam can do to keep talking. About coaching. Talking about being a good coach. Because much as Adam hates to admit it, Blake is an incredible coach—he forms such strong relationships with his contestants, it’s almost intimidating to watch. When it’s not endearing. And it’s not like Adam is struggling, and he’ll be damned if he ever asks Blake for _help_ , but every once in a while he does like to trade strategies.

“Part of what makes her such a strong competitor is how much thought she puts into every choice she makes,” he forces himself to say, still painfully aware of Blake’s knee against his. “But she’s so used to making these choices on her own. She comes to rehearsal with this vision, this set version of her song, and that’s great, but she really kind of marries those decisions and gets so defensive about them .”

Blake nods. “Yeah, I had a few like that,” he says. “You gotta be careful how you phrase your criticism.”

“But it’s like she thinks I’m undermining her. Which I guess I get, given her life and all. I’d stick to my guns too if I were her, but she has to know I’m here to help her.”

Blake is suddenly shaking his head. “Well first of all you’ve gotta stop psychoanalyzing her,” he says. “You’re not her therapist, you’re her vocal coach.”

“But—” Adam starts.

“You’re not doin’ her any favors coddlin’ her like this,” Blake says, that exasperated tone in his voice. “She’s here to learn. Your notes will help her.” He pauses, then smiles at Adam. “Well, maybe not _yours_.”  

Adam rolls his eyes and nudges Blake’s knee with his own. “My notes will help her,” he says.

“Then give ‘em,” Blake says. “If she needs some tough love, you know how to give it.”

Adam raises his eyebrows. “Oh, do I?”

Blake grins at him, wide and lazy. “That’s what the rumor is,” he says, and Adam’s heart skips a beat. Blake is _flirting_ with him. He is, right? Adam’s usually pretty good at telling these things. But it’s _Blake_. Their knees are still touching. Adam could swear he can even feel Blake pressing the slightest bit closer to him.

“I guess you’re right,” Adam says after a deep breath. “I mean—” he blushes and rushes to clarify. “Coddling her won’t help.”

That was the advice he came for. He has it now, should feel free to go, but Blake is looking at him intensely, eyes blazing, and heat is radiating out from his knee and making him feel too warm, overwhelmed.

“So what’s new with you?” he asks, trying hard to bounce back. Because Blake’s just teasing him. It’s just a show, part of what they do when the cameras are rolling. Except there are no cameras now.

“Adam,” Blake says.

“Blake,” he responds faux-seriously, trying to play off this new tension. Because Blake couldn’t be hitting on him. It’s _Blake_. He just does this kind of thing sometimes. Totally normal. Right?

Except it doesn’t feel totally normal when Blake asks him, without breaking eye contact, “You wanna come over for a beer or somethin’?”

And it _should_. It should feel normal—it’s a question Blake’s asked him dozens—maybe hundreds—of times. But there’s something about this time, about Blake’s voice, about Blake’s eyes, even about the way Blake is leaning towards him. And Adam doesn’t know exactly what he’s agreeing to when he nods and says “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

 

Adam drives. Adam always drives. They’re on their way to Blake’s place before he can even try to make sense of the way Blake is acting, and it’s _almost_ like any other day. Except not quite.

And here’s the thing. Adam _would_. He’s made no secret of it, at least, he doesn’t think he has, tends to be pretty obvious about these things. He doesn’t see the point in being coy. It’s not like he’s gone around hitting on Blake or anything (except a little, for the cameras), but he’s never actively tried to hide his attraction. How could he? How could anyone, really? Blake’s just so big and manly and built. There aren’t a lot of people who’d say no.

But he’s Blake Shelton. Down-home country singer, paternal Voice coach, Southern boy Blake Shelton. Adam never once thought for a second that he’d be interested. Maybe if he had he’d have acted differently. Because he’s pretty much baffled now—that seems to be what Blake’s putting down, and it’s not like Adam _isn’t_ picking it up, but…what suddenly changed? Adam’s not acting any differently than he always has, hasn’t changed a damn thing about his appearance or behavior. There should be no reason for Blake Shelton to turn around and change his mind about his best friend.

But as they get out of the car and Blake leads Adam into the house, one warm hand resting on his back the whole way, it seems that is exactly what happened. As Blake pulls beers from the fridge and carries them back to the couch where Adam is sitting, Adam considers the possibility that Blake is seriously doing this and what it would mean. His head is already in knots when Blake settles down not so much next to him as against him, tangled with him, very much inside his personal bubble.

“Blake,” he says.

Blake looks at him, blue eyes barely a foot away from his own. “Yeah?” he asks.

“I—” Adam takes a sip of his beer instead of saying anything. He doesn’t know what it is he wants to say. Just…something. Something to acknowledge that this is _weird_. That this isn’t what happens every time Adam comes by for a beer.

Blake’s still watching him, eyes seemingly trained on Adam’s lips. And it’s overwhelming, to have Blake Shelton staring at you so intently, so _focused_ , as if you’re the center of his world. It makes Adam shiver.

Blake smiles. “You okay?” he asks, a hand landing on Adam’s shoulder, rubbing against it as if to keep him warm. Adam nods and leans into the touch a little. Something resolves in Blake’s blazing eyes and he reaches out for Adam’s beer, moving it to the coffee table before he starts to lean in.

“Are you sure?” Adam whispers. Blake nods, still moving in. “But what about—” and then Blake is kissing him. And _Jesus_ , is he kissing him. Blake’s lips are warm and firm and move surely. Adam has never acquiesced to anything quite so quickly, giving himself over completely to every move Blake makes. It’s a matter of seconds before Blake has him pressed into the couch and he’s not complaining. It’s not just that everything Blake is doing is driving him absolutely insane, it’s also the confidence with which he does it all. Sure fingers in his hair, sure lips on his, a sure body pressing him into the couch. Sure arms pulling him upright and dragging him upstairs to the bedroom. Adam can keep up just fine, could compete for the lead, for dominance, if he tried, but he feels no compunction to—he’s more than happy to let himself be manhandled by Blake, has in fact been dreaming of being manhandled by Blake for quite some time. The only moves he makes are to divest Blake of his clothing as quickly as possible. Otherwise, he focuses on _feeling_ , on the sharp sting of Blake’s teeth on his bottom lip, the solidness of Blake’s weight on top of him, the sheer relief when Blake (finally) wraps his hand around Adam’s cock and strokes, lazy though his pace may be.

He’s damn near come apart even before Blake reaches into his bedside table drawer for lube and a condom, is begging as Blake stretches him out with one slick finger, then two, and loses the ability to form words altogether at three. He can’t manage anything but a gasp when Blake’s cock finally slides into him. The slow pace Blake sets just about makes him black out—he’s trembling with want, barely even conscious of Blake’s reactions above him. He’s usually a much better partner, more active participant, but he isn’t usually pushed to the edge like this. Blake kisses him, hot and dirty, stifling a moan into Adam’s mouth, and Adam focuses all his effort into being responsive, nails digging into Blake’s back, teeth driving into Blake’s lower lip as he continues to fall apart.

“Adam,” Blake says, and Adam can’t answer with more than a moan. “Fuck,” Blake whispers, as he picks up the pace. Adam can’t hold on much longer, is seeing spots behind his eyes, and grips at Blake as tightly as he can, trying to communicate this. Blake seems to get it, reaches between them to wrap his fist around Adam’s cock again, timing upstroke to thrust so that it’s a matter of seconds until Adam is coming all over his own stomach, so hard his vision goes black and he goes entirely limp. He’s vaguely conscious of Blake thrusting erratically, swearing as his motions stutter, then stop, and of Blake pressing his forehead to his own and kissing him once, softly, on the lips.

Adam tries to speak, but only manages a soft “nnnnnnnngh.” Blake laughs once, kisses Adam’s forehead and carefully rolls off of him. Adam has barely caught his breath when Blake’s arm wraps around him and pulls him closer, sweat making their bodies stick together.

“Hey,” Blake says, looking down at Adam and smiling softly.

“Hey,” Adam says back, though it comes out more like a sigh.

“So I might’ve been wrong about that tough love thing before,” Blake says, laughing a little.

Adam wants to argue that, but is having trouble keeping his eyes open so just does his best to shove with his elbow. “Next time,” he says, as he drifts off on Blake’s shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @shewillbevined if you wanna chat


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